[On board a ship on the North Sea, off the Norwegian coast. Sunset. Stormy weather.]
[PEER GYNT, a vigorous old man, with grizzled hair and beard, is standing aft on the poop. He is dressed half sailor–fashion, with a pea–jacket and long boots. His clothing is rather the worse for wear; he himself is weather–beaten, and has a somewhat harder expression. The CAPTAIN is standing beside the steersman at the wheel. The crew are forward.]
PEER GYNT [leans with his arms on the bulwark, and gazes towards the land]
Look at Hallingskarv in his winter
furs;—
he’s ruffling it, old one, in the evening glow.
The Jokel, his brother, stands behind him askew;
he’s got his green ice–mantle still on his back.
The Flogefann, now, she is mighty fine,—
lying there like a maiden in spotless white.
Don’t you be madcaps, old boys that you are!
Stand where you stand; you’re but granite knobs.
THE CAPTAIN [shouts forward]
Two hands to the wheel, and the lantern aloft!
PEER
It’s blowing up stiff—
THE CAPTAIN
—for a gale to–night.
PEER
Can one see the Ronde Hills from the sea?
THE CAPTAIN
No, how should you? They lie at the back of the snow–fields.
PEER
Or Blaho?
THE CAPTAIN
No; but from up in the rigging,
you’ve a glimpse, in clear weather, of Galdhopiggen.
PEER
Where does Harteig lie?
THE CAPTAIN [pointing]
About over there.
PEER
I thought so.
THE CAPTAIN
You know where you are, it appears.
PEER
When I left the country, I sailed by here;
And the dregs, says the proverb, hang in to the last.
[Spits, and gazes at the coast.]
In there, where the scaurs and the clefts lie
blue,—
where the valleys, like trenches, gloom narrow and black,
and underneath, skirting the open fiords,—
it’s in places like these human beings abide.
[Looks at the CAPTAIN.]
They build far apart in this country.
THE CAPTAIN
Ay;
few are the dwellings and far between.
PEER
Shall we get in by day–break?
THE CAPTAIN
Thereabouts;
if we don’t have too dirty a night altogether.
PEER
It grows thick in the west.
THE CAPTAIN
It does so.
PEER
Stop a bit!
You might put me in mind when we make up accounts—
I’m inclined, as the phrase goes, to do a good turn
to the crew—
THE CAPTAIN
I thank you.
PEER
It won’t be much.
I have dug for gold, and lost what I found;—
we are quite at loggerheads, Fate and I.
You know what I’ve got in safe keeping on board—
that’s all I have left;—the rest’s gone to the
devil.
THE CAPTAIN
It’s more than enough, though, to make you
of weight
among people at home here.
PEER
I’ve no relations.
There’s no one awaiting the rich old curmudgeon.—
Well; that saves you, at least, any scenes on the pier!
THE CAPTAIN
Here comes the storm.
PEER
Well, remember then—
If any of your crew are in real need,
I won’t look too closely after the money—
THE CAPTAIN
That’s kind. They are most of them ill
enough off;
they have all got their wives and their children at home.
With their wages alone they can scarce make ends meet;
but if they come home with some cash to the good,
it will be a return not forgot in a hurry.
PEER
What do you say? Have they wives and
children?
Are they married?
THE CAPTAIN
Married? Ay, every man of them.
But the one that is worst off of all is the cook;
black famine is ever at home in his house.
PEER
Married? They’ve folks that await them at
home?
Folks to be glad when they come? Eh?
THE CAPTAIN
Of course,
in poor people’s fashion.
PEER
And come they one evening,
what then?
THE CAPTAIN
Why, I daresay the goodwife will fetch
something good for a treat—
PEER
And a light in the sconce?
THE CAPTAIN
Ay, ay, may be two; and a dram to their supper.
PEER
And there they sit snug! There’s a fire on
the hearth!
They’ve their children about them! The room’s full of
chatter;
not one hears another right out to an end,
for the joy that is on them—!
THE CAPTAIN
It’s likely enough.
So it’s really kind, as you promised just now,
to help eke things out.
PEER [thumping the bulwark]
I’ll be damned if I do!
Do you think I am mad? Would you have me fork out
for the sake of a parcel of other folks’ brats?
I’ve slaved much too sorely in earning my cash!
There’s nobody waiting for old Peer Gynt.
THE CAPTAIN
Well well; as you please then; your money’s your own.
PEER
Right! Mine it is, and no one else’s.
We’ll reckon as soon as your anchor is down!
Take my fare, in the cabin, from Panama here.
Then brandy all round to the crew. Nothing more.
If I give a doit more, slap my jaw for me, Captain.
THE CAPTAIN
I owe you a quittance, and not a
thrashing;—
but excuse me, the wind’s blowing up to a gale.
[He goes forward. It has fallen dark; lights are lit in the cabin. The sea increases. Fog and thick clouds.]
PEER
To have a whole bevy of youngsters at
home;—
still to dwell in their minds as a coming delight;—
to have others’ thoughts follow you still on your
path!—
There’s never a soul gives a thought to me.—
Lights in the sconces! I’ll put out those lights.
I will hit upon something!—I’ll make them all
drunk;—
not one of the devils shall go sober ashore.
They shall all come home drunk to their children and wives!
They shall curse; bang the table till it rings again,—
they shall scare those that wait for them out of their wits!
The goodwife shall scream and rush forth from the house,—
clutch her children along! All their joy gone to ruin!
[The ship gives a heavy lurch; he staggers and keeps his balance with difficulty.]
Why, that was a buffet and no mistake.
The sea’s hard at labour, as though it were paid for
it;—
it’s still itself here on the coasts of the north;—
a cross–sea, as wry and wrong–headed as ever—
[Listens.]
Why, what can those screams be?
THE LOOK–OUT [forward]
A wreck a–lee!
THE CAPTAIN [on the main deck, shouts]
Helm hard a–starboard! Bring her up to the wind!
THE MATE
Are there men on the wreck?
THE LOOK–OUT
I can just see three!
PEER
Quick! lower the stern boat—
THE CAPTAIN
She’d fill ere she floated.
[Goes forward.]
PEER
Who can think of that now?
[To some of the crew.]
If you’re men, to the rescue!
What the devil, if you should get a bit of a ducking!
THE BOATSWAIN
It’s out of the question in such a sea.
PEER
They are screaming again! There’s a lull in
the wind.—
Cook, will you risk it? Quick! I will pay—
THE COOK
No, not if you offered me twenty pounds–sterling—
PEER
You hounds! You chicken–hearts! Can you
forget
these are men that have goodwives and children at home?
There they’re sitting and waiting—
THE BOATSWAIN
Well, patience is wholesome.
THE CAPTAIN
Bear away from that sea!
THE MATE
There the wreck turned over!
PEER
All is silent of a sudden—!
THE BOATSWAIN
Were they married, as you think,
there are three new–baked widows even now in the world.
[The storm increases. PEER GYNT moves away aft.]
PEER
There is no faith left among men any
more,—
no Christianity,—well may they say it and write
it;—
their good deeds are few and their prayers are still fewer,
and they pay no respect to the Powers above them.—
In a storm like to–night’s, he’s a terror, the
Lord is.
These beasts should be careful, and think, what’s the
truth,
that it’s dangerous playing with elephants;—
and yet they must openly brave his displeasure!
I am no whit to blame; for the sacrifice
I can prove I stood ready, my money in hand.
But how does it profit me?—What says the proverb?
A conscience at ease is a pillow of down.
Oh ay, that is all very well on dry land,
but I’m blest if it matters a snuff on board ship,
when a decent man’s out on the seas with such
riff–raff.
At sea one never can be one’s self;
one must go with the others from deck to keel;
if for boatswain and cook the hour of vengeance should strike,
I shall no doubt be swept to the deuce with the rest;—
one’s personal welfare is clean set aside;—
one counts but as a sausage in slaughtering–time.—
My mistake is this: I have been too meek;
and I’ve had no thanks for it after all.
Were I younger, I. think I would shift the saddle,
and try how it answered to lord it awhile.
There is time enough yet! They shall know in the parish
that Peer has come sailing aloft o’er the seas!
I’ll get back the farmstead by fair means or foul;—
I will build it anew; it shall shine like a palace.
But none shall be suffered to enter the hall!
They shall stand at the gateway, all twirling their
caps;—
they shall beg and beseech—that they freely may do;
but none gets so much as a farthing of mine.
If I’ve had to howl ’neath the lashes of fate,
trust me to find folks I can lash in my turn—
THE STRANGE PASSENGER [stands in the darkness at PEER GYNT’s side, and salutes him in friendly fashion]
Good evening Good evening!
PEER
Good evening! What—? Who are you?
THE PASSENGER
Your fellow–passenger, at your service.
PEER
Indeed? I thought I was the only one.
THE PASSENGER
A mistaken impression, which now is set right.
PEER
But it’s singular that, for the first time
to–night,
I should see you—
THE PASSENGER
I never come out in the day–time.
PEER
Perhaps you are ill? You’re as white as a sheet—
THE PASSENGER
No, thank you—my health is uncommonly good.
PEER
What a raging storm!
THE PASSENGER
Ay, a blessed one, man!
PEER
A blessed one?
THE PASSENGER
The sea’s running high as houses.
Ah, one can feel one’s mouth watering!
just think of the wrecks that to–night will be
shattered;—
and think, too, what corpses will drive ashore!
PEER
Lord save us!
THE PASSENGER
Have ever you seen a man strangled,
or hanged,—or drowned?
PEER
This is going too far—!
THE PASSENGER
The corpses all laugh. But their laughter is
forced;
and the most part are found to have bitten their tongues.
PEER
Hold off from me—!
THE PASSENGER
Only one question pray!
If we, for example, should strike on a rock,
and sink in the darkness—
PEER
You think there is danger?
THE PASSENGER
I really don’t know what I ought to
say.
But suppose, now, I float and you go to the bottom—
PEER
Oh, rubbish—
THE PASSENGER
It’s just a hypothesis.
But when one is placed with one foot in the grave,
one grows soft–hearted and open–handed—
PEER [puts his hand in his pocket]
Ho, money!
THE PASSENGER
No, no; but perhaps you would kindly
make me a gift of your much–esteemed carcass—?
PEER
This is too much!
THE PASSENGER
No more than your body, you know!
To help my researches in science—
PEER
Begone!
THE PASSENGER
But think, my dear sir—the advantage is
yours!
I’ll have you laid open and brought to the light.
What I specially seek is the centre of dreams,—
and with critical care I’ll look into your seams—
PEER
Away with you!
THE PASSENGER
Why, my dear sir—a drowned corpse—!
PEER
Blasphemer! You’re goading the rage of the
storm!
I call it too bad! Here it’s raining and blowing,
a terrible sea on, and all sorts of signs
of something that’s likely to shorten our days;—
And you carry on so as to make it come quicker!
THE PASSENGER
You’re in no mood, I see, to negotiate
further;
but time, you know, brings with it many a change—
[Nods in a friendly fashion.]
We’ll meet when you’re sinking, if
not before;
perhaps I may then find you more in the humour.
[Goes into the cabin.]
PEER
Unpleasant companions these scientists are!
With their freethinking ways—
[To the BOATSWAIN, who is passing.]
Hark, a word with you, friend!
That passenger? What crazy creature is he?
THE BOATSWAIN
I know of no passenger here but yourself.
PEER
No others? This thing’s getting worse and worse.
[To the SHIP’S BOY, who comes out of the cabin.]
Who went down the companion just now?
THE BOY
The ship’s dog, sir!
[Passes on.]
THE LOOK–OUT [shouts]
Land close ahead!
PEER
Where’s my box? Where’s my trunk?
All the baggage on deck!
THE BOATSWAIN
We have more to attend to!
PEER
It was nonsense, captain! ’Twas only my
joke;—
as sure as I’m here I will help the cook—
THE CAPTAIN
The jib’s blown away!
THE MATE
And there went the foresail!
THE BOATSWAIN [shrieks from forward]
Breakers under the bow!
THE CAPTAIN
She will go to shivers!
[The ship strikes. Noise and confusion.]
[Close under the land, among sunken rocks and surf. The ship sinks. The jolly–boat, with two men in her, is seen for a moment through the scud. A sea strikes her; she fills and upsets. A shriek is heard; then all is silent for a while. Shortly afterwards the boat appears floating bottom upwards.]
[PEER GYNT comes to the surface near the boat.]
PEER
Help! Help! A boat! Help! I’ll be
drowned!
Save me, oh Lord—as saith the text!
[Clutches hold of the boat’s keel.]
THE COOK [comes up on the other side]
Oh, Lord God—for my children’s
sake,
have mercy! Let me reach the land!
[Seizes hold of the keel.]
PEER
Let go!
THE COOK
Let go!
PEER
I’ll strike!
THE COOK
So’ll I!
PEER
I’ll crush you down with kicks and
blows!
Let go your hold! She won’t float two!
THE COOK
I know it! Yield!
PEER
Yield you!
THE COOK
Oh yes!
[They fight; one of the COOKS hands is disabled; he clings on with the other.]
PEER
Off with that hand!
THE COOK
Oh, kind sir—spare!
Think of my little ones at home!
PEER
I need my life far more than you,
for I am lone and childless still.
THE COOK
Let go! You’ve lived, and I am young!
PEER
Quick; haste you; sink;—you drag us down.
THE COOK
Have mercy! Yield in heaven’s name!
There’s none to miss and mourn for you—
[His hand slips; he screams:]
I’m drowning!
PEER [seizing him]
By this wisp of hair
I’ll hold you; say your Lord’s Prayer, quick!
THE COOK
I can’t remember; all turns black—
PEER
Come, the essentials in a word—!
THE COOK
Give us this day—!
PEER
Skip that part, Cook;
you’ll get all you need, safe enough.
THE COOK
Give us this day—
PEER
The same old song!
One sees you were a cook in life—
[The COOK slips from his grasp.]
THE COOK [sinking]
Give us this day our—
[Disappears.]
PEER
Amen, lad!
to the last gasp you were yourself.—
[Draws himself up on to the bottom of the boat.]
So long as there is life there’s hope—
THE STRANGE PASSENGER [catches hold of the boat]
Good morning!
PEER
Hoy!
THE PASSENGER
I heard you shout.—
It’s pleasant finding you again.
Well? So my prophecy came true!
PEER
Let go! Let go! ’Twill scarce float one!
THE PASSENGER
I’m striking out with my left leg.
I’ll float, if only with their tips
my fingers rest upon this ledge.
But apropos: your body—
PEER
Hush!
THE PASSENGER
The rest, of course, is done for, clean—
PEER
No more!
THE PASSENGER
Exactly as you please.
[Silence.]
PEER
Well?
THE PASSENGER
I am silent.
PEER
Satan’s tricks!—
What now?
THE PASSENGER
I’m waiting.
PEER [tearing his hair]
I’ll go mad!—
What are you?
THE PASSENGER [nods]
Friendly.
PEER
What else? Speak!
THE PASSENGER
What think you? Do you know none other
that’s like me?
PEER
Do I know the devil—?
THE PASSENGER [in a low voice]
Is it his way to light a lantern
for life’s night–pilgrimage through fear?
PEER
Ah, come! When once the thing’s cleared
up,
you’d seem a messenger of light?
THE PASSENGER
Friend,—have you once in each
half–year
felt all the earnestness of dread?
PEER
Why, one’s afraid when danger
threatens;—
but all your words have double meanings.
THE PASSENGER
Ay, have you gained but once in life
the victory that is given in dread?
PEER [looks at him]
Came you to ope for me a door,
’twas stupid not to come before.
What sort of sense is there in choosing
your time when seas gape to devour one?
THE PASSENGER
Were, then, the victory more likely
beside your hearth–stone, snug and quiet?
PEER
Perhaps not; but your talk befooled me.
How could you fancy it awakening?
THE PASSENGER
Where I come from, there smiles are prized
as highly as pathetic style.
PEER
All has its time; what fits the taxman,
so says the text, would damn the bishop.
THE PASSENGER
The host whose dust inurned has slumbered
treads not on week–days the cothurnus.
PEER
Avaunt thee, bugbear! Man, begone!
I will not die! I must ashore!
THE PASSENGER
Oh, as for that, be reassured;—
one dies not midmost of Act Five.
[Glides away.]
PEER
Ah, there he let it out at last;—
he was a sorry moralist.
[Churchyard in a high–lying mountain parish.]
[A funeral is going on. By the grave, the PRIEST and a gathering of people. The last verse of the psalm is being sung. PEER GYNT passes by on the road.]
PEER [at the gate]
Here’s a countryman going the way of all
flesh.
God be thanked that it isn’t me.
[Enters the churchyard.]
THE PRIEST [speaking beside the grave]
Now, when the soul has gone to meet its doom,
and here the dust lies, like an empty pod,—
now, my dear friends, we’ll speak a word or two
about this dead man’s pilgrimage on earth.
He was not wealthy, neither was he wise,
his voice was weak, his bearing was unmanly,
he spoke his mind abashed and faltering,
he scarce was master at his own fireside;
he sidled into church, as though appealing
for leave, like other men, to take his place.
It was from Gudbrandsdale, you know, he came.
When here he settled he was but a lad;—
and you remember how, to the very last,
he kept his right hand hidden in his pocket.
That right hand in the pocket was the feature
that chiefly stamped his image on the mind,—
and therewithal his writhing, his abashed
shrinking from notice wheresoe’er he went.
But, though he still pursued a path aloof,
and ever seemed a stranger in our midst,
you all know what he strove so hard to hide,—
the hand he muffled had four fingers only.—
I well remember, many years ago,
one morning; there were sessions held at Lunde.
’Twas war–time, and the talk in every mouth
turned on the country’s sufferings and its fate.
I stood there watching. At the table sat
the Captain, ’twixt the bailiff and the sergeants;
lad after lad was measured up and down,
passed, and enrolled, and taken for a soldier.
The room was full, and from the green outside,
where thronged the young folks, loud the laughter rang.
A name was called, and forth another stepped,
one pale as snow upon the glacier’s edge.
They bade the youth advance; he reached the table;
we saw his right hand swaddled in a clout;—
he gasped, he swallowed, battling after words,—
but, though the Captain urged him, found no voice.
Ah yes, at last! Then with his cheek aflame,
his tongue now failing him, now stammering fast,
he mumbled something of a scythe that slipped
by chance, and shore his finger to the skin.
Straightway a silence fell upon the room.
Men bandied meaning glances; they made mouths;
they stoned the boy with looks of silent scorn.
He felt the hail–storm, but he saw it not.
Then up the Captain stood, the grey old man;
he spat, and pointed forth, and thundered “Go!”
And the lad went. On both sides men fell back,
till through their midst he had to run the gauntlet.
He reached the door; from there he took to flight;—
up, up he went,—through wood and over hillside,
up through the stone–slips, rough, precipitous.
He had his home up there among the mountains.—
It was some six months later he came here,
with mother, and betrothed, and little child.
He leased some ground upon the high hillside,
there where the waste lands trend away towards Lomb.
He married the first moment that he could;
he built a house; he broke the stubborn soil;
he throve, as many a cultivated patch
bore witness, bravely clad in waving gold.
At church he kept his right hand in his pocket,—
but sure I am at home his fingers nine
toiled every bit as hard as others’ ten.—
One spring the torrent washed it all away.
Their lives were spared. Ruined and stripped of all,
he set to work to make another clearing;
and, ere the autumn, smoke again arose
from a new, better–sheltered, mountain farm–house.
Sheltered? From torrent—not from avalanche;
two years, and all beneath the snow lay buried.
But still the avalanche could not daunt his spirit.
He dug, and raked, and carted—cleared the ground—
and the next winter, ere the snow–blasts came,
a third time was his little homestead reared.
Three sons he had, three bright and stirring boys;
they must to school, and school was far away;—
and they must clamber where the hill–track failed,
by narrow ledges through the headlong scaur.
What did he do? The eldest had to manage
as best he might, and, where the path was worst,
his father cast a rope round him to stay him;—
the others on his back and arms he bore.
Thus he toiled, year by year, till they were men.
Now might he well have looked for some return.
In the New World, three prosperous gentlemen
their school–going and their father have forgotten.
He was short–sighted. Out beyond the circle
of those most near to him he nothing saw.
To him seemed meaningless as cymbals’ tinkling
those words that to the heart should ring like steel.
His race, his fatherland, all things high and shining,
stood ever, to his vision, veiled in mist.
But he was humble, humble, was this man;
and since that sessions–day his doom oppressed him,
as surely as his cheeks were flushed with shame,
and his four fingers hidden in his pocket.—
Offender ’gainst his country’s laws? Ay, true!
But there is one thing that the law outshineth
sure as the snow–white tent of Glittertind
has clouds, like higher rows of peaks, above it.
No patriot was he. Both for church and state
a fruitless tree. But there, on the upland ridge,
in the small circle where he saw his calling,
there he was great, because he was himself.
His inborn note rang true unto the end.
His days were as a lute with muted strings.
And therefore, peace be with thee, silent warrior,
that fought the peasant’s little fight, and fell!
It is not ours to search the heart and reins;—
that is no task for dust, but for its ruler;—
yet dare I freely, firmly, speak my hope:
he scarce stands crippled now before his God!
[The gathering disperses. PEER GYNT remains behind, alone.]
PEER
Now that is what I call Christianity!
Nothing to seize on one’s mind unpleasantly.—
And the topic—immovably being oneself,—
that the pastor’s homily turned upon,—
is full, in its essence, of edification.
[Looks down upon the grave.]
Was it he, I wonder, that hacked through his
knuckle
that day I was out hewing logs in the forest?
Who knows? If I weren’t standing here with my staff
by the side of the grave of this kinsman in spirit,
I could almost believe it was I that slept,
and heard in a vision my panegyric.—
It’s a seemly and Christianlike custom indeed
this casting a so–called memorial glance
in charity over the life that is ended.
I shouldn’t at all mind accepting my verdict
at the hands of this excellent parish priest.
Ah well, I dare say I have some time left
ere the gravedigger comes to invite me to stay with him;—
and as Scripture has it: What’s best is best,—
and: Enough for the day is the evil thereof,—
and further: Discount not thy funeral.—
Ah, the church, after all, is the true consoler.
I’ve hitherto scarcely appreciated it;—
but now I feel clearly how blessed it is
to be well assured upon sound authority:
Even as thou sowest thou shalt one day reap.—
One must be oneself; for oneself and one’s own
one must do one’s best, both in great and in small
things.
If the luck goes against you, at least you’ve the honour
of a life carried through in accordance with principle.—
Now homewards! Though narrow and steep the path,
though Fate to the end may be never so biting—
still old Peer Gynt will pursue his own way,
and remain what he is: poor, but virtuous ever.
[Goes out.]
[A hillside seamed by the dry bed of a torrent. A ruined mill–house beside the stream. The ground is torn up, and the whole place waste. Further up the hill, a large farm–house.]
[An auction is going on in front of the farm–house. There is a great gathering of people, who are drinking, with much noise. PEER GYNT is sitting on a rubbish–heap beside the mill.]
PEER
Forward and back, and it’s just as far;
out and in, and it’s just as strait.—
Time wears away and the river gnaws on.
Go roundabout, the Boyg said;—and here one must.
A MAN DRESSED IN MOURNING
Now there is only rubbish left over.
[Catches sight of PEER GYNT.]
Are there strangers here too! God be with you, good friend!
PEER
Well met! You have lively times here
to–day.
Is’t a christening junket or a wedding feast?
THE MAN IN MOURNING
I’d rather call it a house–warming
treat;—
the bride is laid in a wormy bed.
PEER
And the worms are squabbling for rags and clouts.
THE MAN IN MOURNING
That’s the end of the ditty; it’s over and done.
PEER
All the ditties end just alike;
and they’re all old together; I knew ’em as a boy.
A LAD OF TWENTY [with a casting–ladle]
Just look what a rare thing I’ve been
buying!
In this Peer Gynt cast his silver buttons.
ANOTHER
Look at mine, though! The money–bag bought for a halfpenny.
A THIRD
No more, eh? Twopence for the pedlar’s pack!
PEER
Peer Gynt? Who was he?
THE MAN IN MOURNING
All I know is this:
he was kinsman to Death and to Aslak the Smith.
A MAN IN GREY
You’re forgetting me, man! Are you mad or drunk?
THE MAN IN MOURNING
You forget that at Hegstad was a storehouse door.
THE MAN IN GREY
Ay, true; but we know you were never dainty.
THE MAN IN MOURNING
If only she doesn’t give Death the slip—
THE MAN IN GREY
Come, kinsman! A dram, for our kinship’s sake!
THE MAN IN MOURNING
To the deuce with your kinship! You’re maundering in drink—
THE MAN IN GREY
Oh, rubbish; blood’s never so thin as all
that;
one cannot but feel one’s akin to Peer Gynt.
[Goes off with him.]
PEER [to himself]
One meets with acquaintances.
A LAD [calls after the MAN IN MOURNING]
Mother that’s dead
will be after you, Aslak, if you wet your whistle.
PEER [rises]
The agriculturists’ saying seems scarce to
hold here:
The deeper one harrows the better it smells.
A LAD [with a bear’s skin]
Look, the cat of the Dovre! Well, only his
fell.
It was he chased the trolls out on Christmas Eve.
ANOTHER [with a reindeer–skull]
Here is the wonderful reindeer that bore,
at Gendin, Peer Gynt over edge and scaur.
A THIRD [with a hammer, calls out to the MAN IN MOURNING]
Hei, Aslak, this sledge–hammer, say, do you
know it?
Was it this that you used when the devil clove the wall?
A FOURTH [empty–handed]
Mads Moen, here’s the invisible cloak
Peer Gynt and Ingrid flew off through the air with.
PEER
Brandy here, boys! I feel I’m grown
old;—
I must put up to auction my rubbish and lumber!
A LAD
What have you to sell, then?
PEER
A palace I have—
it lies in the Ronde; it’s solidly built.
THE LAD
A button is bid!
PEER
You must run to a dram.
’Twere a sin and a shame to bid anything less.
ANOTHER
He’s a jolly old boy this!
[The bystanders crowd round him.]
PEER [shouts]
Grane, my steed;
who bids?
ONE OF THE CROWD
Where’s he running?
PEER
Why, far in the west!
Near the sunset, my lads! Ah, that courser can fly
as fast, ay, as fast as Peer Gynt could lie.
VOICES
What more have you got?
PEER
I’ve both rubbish and gold!
I bought it with ruin; I’ll sell it at a loss.
A LAD
Put it up!
PEER
A dream of a silver–clasped book!
That you can have for an old hook and eye.
THE LAD
To the devil with dreams!
PEER
Here’s my Kaiserdom!
I throw it in the midst of you; scramble for it!
THE LAD
Is the crown given in?
PEER
Of the loveliest straw.
It will fit whoever first puts it on.
Hei, there is more yet! An addled egg!
A madman’s grey hair! And the Prophet’s beard!
All these shall be his that will show on the hillside
a post that has writ on it: Here lies your path!
THE BAILIFF [who has come up]
You’re carrying on, my good man, so that
almost
I think that your path will lead straight to the lock–up.
PEER [hat in hand]
Quite likely. But, tell me, who was Peer Gynt?
THE BAILIFF
Oh, nonsense—
PEER
Your pardon! Most humbly I beg—!
THE BAILIFF
Oh, he’s said to have been an abominable liar—
PEER
A liar—?
THE BAILIFF
Yes—all that was strong and great
he made believe always that he had done it.
But, excuse me, friend—I have other duties—
[Goes.]
PEER
And where is he now, this remarkable man?
AN ELDERLY MAN
He fared over seas to a foreign land;
it went ill with him there, as one well might foresee;—
it’s many a year now since he was hanged.
PEER
Hanged! Ay, ay! Why, I thought as much;
our lamented Peer Gynt was himself to the last.
[Bows.]
Good–bye,—and best thanks for to–day’s merry meeting.
[Goes a few steps, but stops again.]
You joyous youngsters, you comely
lasses,—
shall I pay my shot with a traveller’s tale?
SEVERAL VOICES
Yes; do you know any?
PEER
Nothing more easy.—
[He comes nearer; a look of strangeness comes over him.]
I was gold–digging once in San
Francisco.
There were mountebanks swarming all over the town.
One with his toes could perform on the fiddle;
another could dance a Spanish halling on his knees;
a third, I was told, kept on making verses
while his brain–pan was having a hole bored right through
it.
To the mountebank–meeting came also the devil;—
thought he’d try his luck with the rest of them.
His talent was this: in a manner convincing,
he was able to grunt like a flesh–and–blood pig.
He was not recognised, yet his manners attracted.
The house was well filled; expectation ran high.
He stepped forth in a cloak with an ample cape to it;
man muss sich drappiren, as the Germans say.
But under the mantle—what none suspected—
he’d managed to smuggle a real live pig.
And now he opened the representation;
the devil he pinched, and the pig gave voice.
The whole thing purported to be a fantasia
on the porcine existence, both free and in bonds;
and all ended up with a slaughter–house squeal—
whereupon the performer bowed low and retired.—
The critics discussed and appraised the affair;
the tone of the whole was attacked and defended.
Some fancied the vocal expression too thin,
while some thought the death–shriek too carefully
studied;
but all were agreed as to one thing: qua grunt,
the performance was grossly exaggerated.—
Now that, you see, came of the devil’s stupidity
in not taking the measure of his public first.
[He bows and goes off. A puzzled silence comes over the crowd.]
[Whitsun Eve.—In the depths of the forest. To the back, in a clearing, is a hut with a pair of reindeer horns over the porch–gable.]
[PEER GYNT is creeping among the undergrowth, gathering wild onions.]
PEER
Well, this is one standpoint. Where is the
next?
One should try all things and choose the best.
Well, I have done so,—beginning from Caesar,
and downwards as far as to Nebuchadnezzar.
So I had, after all, to go through Bible history;—
the old boy’s had to take to his mother again.
After all it is written: Of the earth art thou come.—
The main thing in life is to fill one’s belly.
Fill it with onions? That’s not much good;—
I must take to cunning, and set out snares.
There’s water in the beck here; I shan’t suffer
thirst;
and I count as the first ’mong the beasts after all.
When my time comes to die—as most likely it will,—
I shall crawl in under a wind–fallen tree;
like the bear, I will heap up a leaf–mound above me,
and I’ll scratch in big print on the bark of the tree:
Here rests Peer Gynt, that decent soul,
Kaiser o’er all of the other beasts.—
Kaiser?
[Laughs inwardly.]
Why, you old soothsayer–humbug!
no Kaiser are you; you are nought but an onion.
I’m going to peel you now, my good Peer!
You won’t escape either by begging or howling.
[Takes an onion and pulls off layer after layer.]
There lies the outermost layer, all torn;
that’s the shipwrecked man on the jolly–boat’s
keel.
Here’s the passenger layer, scanty and thin;—
and yet in its taste there’s a tang of Peer Gynt.
Next underneath is the gold–digger ego;
the juice is all gone—if it ever had any.
This coarse–grained layer with the hardened skin
is the peltry–hunter by Hudson’s Bay.
The next one looks like a crown;—oh, thanks!
we’ll throw it away without more ado.
Here’s the archaeologist, short but sturdy;
and here is the Prophet, juicy and fresh.
He stinks, as the Scripture has it, of lies,
enough to bring the water to an honest man’s eyes.
This layer that rolls itself softly together
is the gentleman, living in ease and good cheer.
The next one seems sick. There are black streaks upon
it;—
black symbolises both parsons and niggers.
[Pulls off several layers at once.]
What an enormous number of swathings!
Isn’t the kernel soon coming to light?
[Pulls the whole onion to pieces.]
I’m blest if it is! To the innermost
centre,
it’s nothing but swathings—each smaller and
smaller.—
Nature is witty!
[Throws the fragments away.]
The devil take brooding!
If one goes about thinking, one’s apt to stumble.
Well, I can at any rate laugh at that danger;
for here on all fours I am firmly planted.
[Scratches his head.]
A queer enough business, the whole concern!
Life, as they say, plays with cards up its sleeve;
but when one snatches at them, they’ve disappeared,
and one grips something else,—or else nothing at all.
[He has come near to the hut; he catches sight of it and starts.]
This hut? On the heath—! Ha!
[Rubs his eyes.]
It seems exactly
as though I had known this same building before.—
The reindeer–horns jutting above the gable!—
A mermaid, shaped like a fish from the navel!—
Lies! there’s no mermaid! But nails—and
planks,—
bars too, to shut out hobgoblin thoughts!—
SOLVEIG [singing in the hut]
Now all is ready for Whitsun Eve.
Dearest boy of mine, far away,
comest thou soon?
Is thy burden heavy,
take time, take time;—
I will await thee;
I promised of old.
PEER [rises, quiet and deadly pale]
One that’s remembered,—and one
that’s forgot.
One that has squandered,—and one that has saved.—
Oh, earnest!—and never can the game be played o’er!
Oh, dread!—here was my Kaiserdom!
[Hurries off along the wood path.]
[Night. A heath, with fir–trees. A forest fire has been raging; charred tree–trunks are seen stretching for miles. White mists here and there clinging to the earth.]
[PEER GYNT comes running over the heath.]
PEER
Ashes, fog–scuds, dust
wind–driven,—
here’s enough for building with!
Stench and rottenness within it;
all a whited sepulchre.
Figments, dreams, and still–born knowledge
lay the pyramid’s foundation;
o’er them shall the work mount upwards,
with its step on step of falsehood.
Earnest shunned, repentance dreaded,
flaunt at the apex like a scutcheon,
fill the trump of judgment with their:
Petrus Gyntus Caesar fecit!
[Listens.]
What is this, like children’s weeping?
Weeping, but half–way to song.—
Thread–balls at my feet are rolling!—
[Kicking at them.]
Off with you! You block my path!
THE THREAD–BALLS [on the ground]
We are thoughts;
thou shouldst have thought us;—
feet to run on
thou shouldst have given us!
PEER [going round about]
I have given life to one;—
’twas a bungled, crook–legged thing!
THE THREAD–BALLS
We should have soared up
like clangorous voices,—
and here we must trundle
as grey–yarn thread–balls.
PEER [stumbling]
Thread–clue! You accursed scamp!
Would you trip your father’s heels?
[Flees.]
WITHERED LEAVES [flying before the wind]
We are a watchword;
thou shouldst have proclaimed us!
See how thy dozing
has wofully riddled us.
The worm has gnawed us
in every crevice;
we have never twined us
like wreaths round fruitage.
PEER
Not in vain your birth, however;—
lie but still and serve as manure.
A SIGHING IN THE AIR
We are songs;
thou shouldst have sung us!—
a thousand times over
hast thou cowed us and smothered us.
Down in thy heart’s pit
we have lain and waited;—
we were never called forth.
In thy gorge be poison!
PEER
Poison thee, thou foolish stave!
Had I time for verse and stuff?
[Attempts a short cut.]
DEWDROPS [dripping from the branches]
We are tears
unshed for ever.
Ice–spears, sharp–wounding,
we could have melted.
Now the barb rankles
in the shaggy bosom;—
the wound is closed over;
our power is ended.
PEER
Thanks;—I wept in
Ronde–cloisters,—
none the less they tied the tail on!
BROKEN STRAWS
We are deeds;
thou shouldst have achieved us!
Doubt, the throttler,
has crippled and riven us.
On the Day of Judgment
we’ll come a–flock,
and tell the story,—
then woe to you!
PEER
Rascal–tricks! How dare you debit
what is negative against me?
[Hastens away.]
ÅSE’S VOICE [far away]
Fie, what a post–boy!
Hu, you’ve upset me!
Snow’s newly fallen here;—
sadly it’s smirched me.—
You’ve driven me the wrong way.
Peer, where’s the castle?
The Fiend has misled you
with the switch from the cupboard!
PEER
Better haste away, poor fellow!
With the devil’s sins upon you,
soon you’ll faint upon the hillside;—
hard enough to bear one’s own sins.
[Runs off.]
[Another part of the heath.]
PEER GYNT [sings]
A sexton! A sexton! where are you, hounds?
A song from braying precentor–mouths;
around your hat–brim a mourning band;—
my dead are many; I must follow their biers!
[THE BUTTON–MOULDER, with a box of tools, and a large casting–ladle, comes from a side–path.]
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Well met, old gaffer!
PEER
Good evening, friend.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
The man’s in a hurry. Why, where is he going?
PEER
To a grave–feast.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Indeed? My sight’s not very
good;—
excuse me,—your name doesn’t chance to be Peer?
PEER
Peer Gynt, as the saying is.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
That I call luck!
It’s precisely Peer Gynt I am sent for to–night.
PEER
You’re sent for? What do you want?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Why, see here;
I’m a button–moulder. You’re to go into my
ladle.
PEER
And what to do there?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
To be melted up.
PEER
To be melted?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Here it is, empty and scoured.
Your grave is dug ready, your coffin bespoke.
The worms in your body will live at their ease;—
but I have orders, without delay,
on Master’s behalf to fetch in your soul.
PEER
It can’t be! Like this, without any warning—!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
It’s an old tradition at burials and
births
to appoint in secret the day of the feast,
with no warning at all to the guest of honour.
PEER
Ay, ay, that’s true. All my brain’s
awhirl.
You are—?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Why, I told you—a button–moulder.
PEER
I see! A pet child has many nicknames.
So that’s it, Peer; it is there you’re to harbour!
But these, my good man, are most unfair proceedings!
I’m sure I deserve better treatment than this;—
I’m not nearly so bad as perhaps you think,—
I’ve done a good deal of good in the world;—
at worst you may call me a sort of a bungler,—
but certainly not an exceptional sinner.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Why that is precisely the rub, my man;
you’re no sinner at all in the higher sense;
that’s why you’re excused all the
torture–pangs,
and land, like others, in the casting–ladle.
PEER
Give it what name you please—call it ladle
or pool;
spruce ale and swipes, they are both of them beer.
Avaunt from me, Satan!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
You can’t be so rude
as to take my foot for a horse’s hoof?
PEER
On horse’s hoof or on fox’s
claws—
be off; and be careful what you’re about!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
My friend, you’re making a great
mistake.
We’re both in a hurry, and so, to save time,
I’ll explain the reason of the whole affair.
You are, with your own lips you told me so,
no sinner on the so–called heroic scale,—
scarce middling even—
PEER
Ah, now you’re beginning
to talk common sense
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Just have patience a bit—
but to call you virtuous would be going too far.—
PEER
Well, you know I have never laid claim to that.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
You’re nor one thing nor t’other
then, only so–so.
A sinner of really grandiose style
is nowadays not to be met on the highways.
It wants much more than merely to wallow in mire;
for both vigour and earnestness go to a sin.
PEER
Ay, it’s very true, that remark of
yours;
one has to lay on, like the old Berserkers.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
You, friend, on the other hand, took your sin lightly.
PEER
Only outwardly, friend, like a splash of mud.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Ah, we’ll soon be at one now. The sulphur
pool
is no place for you, who but plashed in the mire.
PEER
And in consequence, friend, I can go as I came?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
No, in consequence, friend, I must melt you up.
PEER
What tricks are these that you’ve hit
upon
at home here, while I’ve been in foreign parts?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
The custom’s as old as the Snake’s
creation;
it’s designed to prevent loss of good material.
You’ve worked at the craft—you must know that often
a casting turns out, to speak plainly, mere dross;
the buttons, for instance, have sometimes no loop to them.
What did you do, then?
PEER
Flung the rubbish away.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Ah, yes; Jon Gynt was well known for a
waster,
so long as he’d aught left in wallet or purse.
But Master, you see, he is thrifty, he is;
and that is why he’s so well–to–do.
He flings nothing away as entirely worthless
that can be made use of as raw material.
Now, you were designed for a shining button
on the vest of the world; but your loop gave way;
so into the waste–box you needs must go,
and then, as they phrase it, be merged in the mass.
PEER
You’re surely not meaning to melt me
up,
with Dick, Tom, and Harry, into something new?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
That’s just what I do mean, and nothing
else.
We’ve done it already to plenty of folks.
At Kongsberg they do just the same with money
that’s been current so long that its stamp’s worn
away.
PEER
But this is the wretchedest miserliness!
My dear good friend, let me get off free;—
a loopless button, a worn out farthing,—
what is that to a man in your Master’s position?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Oh, so long, and inasmuch as, the spirit’s
in one,
one always has value as so much metal.
PEER
No, I say! No! With both teeth and claws
I’ll fight against this! Sooner anything else!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
But what else? Come now, be reasonable.
You know you’re not airy enough for heaven—
PEER
I’m not hard to content; I don’t aim
so high;—
but I won’t be deprived of one doit of my Self.
Have me judged by the law in the old–fashioned way!
For a certain time place me with Him of the Hoof;—
say a hundred years, come the worst to the worst;
that, now, is a thing that one surely can bear;
for they say the torment is only moral,
so it can’t after all be so pyramidal.
It is, as ’tis written, a mere transition;
and as the fox said: One waits; there comes
an hour of deliverance; one lives in seclusion,
and hopes in the meantime for happier days.—
But this other notion—to have to be merged,
like a mote, in the carcass of some outsider,—
this casting–ladle business, this
Gynt–cessation,—
it stirs up my innermost soul in revolt!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Bless me, my dear Peer, there is surely no
need
to get so wrought up about trifles like this.
Yourself you never have been at all;—
then what does it matter, your dying right out?
PEER
Have I not been—? I could almost laugh!
Peer Gynt, then, has been something else, I suppose!
No, Button–moulder, you judge in the dark.
If you could but look into my very reins,
you’d find only Peer there, and Peer all through,—
nothing else in the world, no, nor anything more.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
It’s impossible. Here I have got my
orders.
Look, here it is written: Peer Gynt shalt thou summon.
He has set at defiance his life’s design;
clap him into the ladle with other spoilt goods.
PEER
What nonsense! They must mean some other
person.
Is it really Peer? It’s not Rasmus, or Jon?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
It is many a day since I melted them.
So come quietly now, and don’t waste my time.
PEER
I’ll be damned if I do! Ay, ’twould
be a fine thing
if it turned out to–morrow some one else was meant.
You’d better take care what you’re at, my good man!
think of the onus you’re taking upon you—
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
I have it in writing—
PEER
At least give me time!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
What good would that do you?
PEER
I’ll use it to prove
that I’ve been myself all the days of my life;
and that’s the question that’s in dispute.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
You’ll prove it? And how?
PEER
Why, by vouchers and witnesses.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
I’m sadly afraid Master will not accept them.
PEER
Impossible! However, enough for the
day—!
My dear man, allow me a loan of myself;
I’ll be back again shortly. One is born only once,
and one’s self, as created, one fain would stick to.
Come, are we agreed?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Very well then, so be it.
But remember, we meet at the next cross–roads.
[PEER GYNT runs off.]
[A further point on the heath.]
PEER [running hard]
Time is money, as the scripture says.
If I only knew where the cross–roads are;—
they may be near and they may be far.
The earth burns beneath me like red–hot iron.
A witness! A witness! Oh, where shall I find one?
It’s almost unthinkable here in the forest.
The world is a bungle! A wretched arrangement,
when a man must prove a right that’s as patent as day!
[AN OLD MAN, bent with age, with a staff in his hand and a bag on his back, is trudging in front of him.]
THE OLD MAN [stops]
Dear, kind sir—a trifle to a houseless soul!
PEER
Excuse me; I’ve got no small change in my pocket—
THE OLD MAN
Prince Peer! Oh, to think we should meet again—!
PEER
Who are you?
THE OLD MAN
You forget the Old Man in the Ronde?
PEER
Why, you’re never—?
THE OLD MAN
The King of the Dovre, my boy!
PEER
The Dovre–King? Really? The Dovre–king? Speak!
THE OLD MAN
Oh, I’ve come terribly down in the world—!
PEER
Ruined?
THE OLD MAN
Ay, plundered of every stiver.
Here am I tramping it, starved as a wolf.
PEER
Hurrah! Such a witness doesn’t grow on the trees!
THE OLD MAN
My Lord Prince, too, has grizzled a bit since we met.
PEER
My dear father–in–law, the years gnaw
and wear one.—
Well well, a truce to all private affairs,—
and pray, above all things, no family jars.
I was then a sad madcap—
THE OLD MAN
Oh yes; oh yes;—
His Highness was young; and what won’t one do then?
But his Highness was wise in rejecting his bride;
he saved himself thereby both worry and shame;
for since then she’s utterly gone to the bad—
PEER
Indeed!
THE OLD MAN
She has led a deplorable life;
and, just think,—she and Trond are now living together.
PEER
Which Trond?
THE OLD MAN
Of the Valfjeld.
PEER
It’s he? Aha;
it was he I cut out with the saeter–girls.
THE OLD MAN
But my grandson has flourished—grown both
stout and great,
and has strapping children all over the country—
PEER
Now, my dear man, spare us this flow of
words;—
I’ve something quite different troubling my mind.—
I’ve got into rather a ticklish position,
and am greatly in need of a witness or voucher;—
that’s how you could help me best,
father–in–law,
and I’ll find you a trifle to drink my health with.
THE OLD MAN
You don’t say so; can I be of use to his
Highness?
You’ll give me a character, then, in return?
PEER
Most gladly. I’m somewhat hard pressed for
cash,
and must cut down expenses in every direction.
Now hear what’s the matter. No doubt you remember
that night when I came to the Ronde a–wooing—
THE OLD MAN
Why, of course, my Lord Prince!
PEER
Oh, no more of the Prince!
But no matter. You wanted, by sheer brute force,
to bias my sight, with a slit in the lens,
and to change me about from Peer Gynt to a troll.
What did I do then? I stood out against it,—
swore I would stand on no feet but my own;
love, power, and glory at once I renounced,
and all for the sake of remaining myself.
Now this fact, you see, you must swear to in Court—
THE OLD MAN
No, I’m blest if I can.
PEER
Why, what nonsense is this?
THE OLD MAN
You surely don’t want to compel me to
lie?
You pulled on the troll–breeches, don’t you
remember,
and tasted the mead—
PEER
Ay, you lured me seductively;—
but I flatly declined the decisive test,
and that is the thing you must judge your man by.
It’s the end of the ditty that all depends on.
THE OLD MAN
But it ended, Peer, just in the opposite way.
PEER
What rubbish is this?
THE OLD MAN
When you left the Ronde,
you inscribed my motto upon your ’scutcheon.
PEER
What motto?
THE OLD MAN
The potent and sundering word.
PEER
The word?
THE OLD MAN
That which severs the whole race of men
from the troll–folk. Troll! To thyself be enough!
PEER [falls back a step]
Enough!
THE OLD MAN
And with every nerve in your body,
you’ve being living up to it ever since.
PEER
What, I? Peer Gynt?
THE OLD MAN [weeps]
It’s ungrateful of you!
You’ve lived as a troll, but have still kept it secret.
The word I taught you has shown you the way
to swing yourself up as a man of substance;—
and now you must needs come and turn up your nose
at me and the word you’ve to thank for it all.
PEER
Enough! A hill–troll! An egoist!
This must be all rubbish; that’s perfectly certain!
THE OLD MAN [pulls out a bundle of old newspapers]
I daresay you think that we’ve no
newspapers?
Wait; here I’ll show you in red and black,
how the Bloksberg Post eulogises you;
and the Heklefield Journal has done the same
ever since the winter you left the country.—
Do you care to read them? You’re welcome, Peer.
Here’s an article, look you, signed
“Stallionhoof.”
And here too is one: “On Troll–Nationalism.”
The writer points out and lays stress on the truth
that horns and a tail are of little importance,
so long as one has but a strip of the hide.
“Our enough,” he concludes, “gives the
hall–mark of trolldom
to man,”—and proceeds to cite you as an instance.
PEER
A hill–troll? I?
THE OLD MAN
Yes, that’s perfectly clear.
PEER
Might as well have stayed quietly where I
was?
Might have stopped in the Ronde in comfort and peace?
Saved my trouble and toil and no end of shoe–leather?
Peer Gynt—a troll? Why it’s rubbish! It’s
stuff!
Good–bye! There’s a halfpenny to buy you tobacco.
THE OLD MAN
Nay, my good Prince Peer!
PEER
Let me go! You’re mad,
or else doting. Off to the hospital with you!
THE OLD MAN
Oh, that is exactly what I’m in search
of.
But, as I told you, my grandson’s offspring
have become overwhelmingly strong in the land,
and they say that I only exist in books.
The saw says: One’s kin are unkindest of all;
I’ve found to my cost that that saying is true.
It’s cruel to count as mere figment and fable
PEER
My dear man, there are others who share the same fate.
THE OLD MAN
And ourselves we’ve no Mutual Aid
Society,
no alms–box or Penny Savings Bank;—
in the Ronde, of course, they’d be out of place.
PEER
No, that cursed: To thyself be enough was the word there!
THE OLD MAN
Oh, come now, the Prince can’t complain of
the word.
And if he could manage by hook or by crook—
PEER
My man, you have got on the wrong scent
entirely;
I’m myself, as the saying goes, fairly cleaned out—
THE OLD MAN
You surely can’t mean it? His Highness a beggar?
PEER
Completely. His Highness’s ego’s in
pawn.
And it’s all your fault, you accursed trolls!
That’s what comes of keeping bad company.
THE OLD MAN
So there came my hope toppling down from its
perch again!
Good–bye! I had best struggle on to the town—
PEER
What would you do there?
THE OLD MAN
I will go to the theatre.
The papers are clamouring for national talents—
PEER
Good luck on your journey; and greet them from
me.
If I can but get free, I will go the same way.
A farce I will write them, a mad and profound one;
its name shall be: “Sic transit gloria mundi.”
[He runs off along the road; the OLD MAN shouts after him.]
[At a cross–road.]
PEER GYNT
Now comes the pinch, Peer, as never before!
This Dovrish Enough has passed judgment upon you.
The vessel’s a wreck; one must float with the spars.
All else; only not to the spoilt–goods heap!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER [at the cross–road]
Well now, Peer Gynt, have you found your voucher?
PEER
Have we reached the cross–road? Well, that’s short work!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
I can see on your face, as it were on a
signboard,
the gist of the paper before I’ve read it.
PEER
I got tired of the hunt;—One might lose one’s way—
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Yes; and what does it lead to, after all?
PEER
True enough; in the wood, and by night as well—
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
There’s an old man, though, trudging. Shall we call him here?
PEER
No let him go. He is drunk, my dear fellow!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
But perhaps he might—
PEER
Hush; no—let him be!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Well, shall we turn to then?
PEER
One question only:
What is it, at bottom, this “being oneself”?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
A singular question, most odd in the mouth
of a man who just now—
PEER
Come, a straightforward answer.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
To be oneself is: to slay oneself.
But on you that answer is doubtless lost;
and therefore we’ll say: to stand forth everywhere
with Master’s intention displayed like a signboard.
PEER
But suppose a man never has come to know
what Master meant with him?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
He must divine it.
PEER
But how oft are divinings beside the
mark,—
then one’s carried ad undas in middle career.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
That is certain, Peer Gynt; in default of
divining
the cloven–hoofed gentleman finds his best hook.
PEER
This matter’s excessively
complicated.—
See here! I no longer plead being myself;—
it might not be easy to get it proven.
That part of my case I must look on as lost.
But just now, as I wandered alone o’er the heath,
I felt my conscience–shoe pinching me;
I said to myself: After all, you’re a sinner—
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
You seem bent on beginning all over again—
PEER
No, very far from it; a great one I mean;
not only in deeds, but in words and desires.
I’ve lived a most damnable life abroad—
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Perhaps; I must ask you to show me the schedule!
PEER
Well well, give me time; I will find out a
parson,
confess with all speed, and then bring you his voucher.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Ay, if you can bring me that, then it is
clear
you escape this business of the casting–ladle.
But Peer, I’d my orders—
PEER
The paper is old;
it dates no doubt from a long past period;—
at one time I lived with disgusting slackness,
went playing the prophet, and trusted in Fate.
Well, may I try?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
But—!
PEER
My dear fellow,
I’m sure you can’t have so much to do.
Here, in this district, the air is so bracing,
it adds an ell to the people’s ages.
Recollect what the Justedal parson wrote:
“It’s seldom that any one dies in this
valley.”
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
To the next cross–roads then; but not a step further.
PEER
A priest I must catch, if it be with the tongs.
[He starts running.]
[A heather–clad hillside with a path following the windings of the ridge.]
PEER
This may come in useful in many ways,
said Esben as he picked up a magpie’s wing.
Who could have thought one’s account of sins
would come to one’s aid on the last night of all?
Well, whether or no, it’s a ticklish business;
a move from the frying–pan into the fire;—
but then there’s a proverb of well–tried validity
which says that as long as there’s life, there’s
hope.
[A LEAN PERSON, in a priest’s cassock, kilted–up high, and with a birding net over his shoulder, comes hurrying along the ridge.]
PEER
Who goes there? A priest with a
fowling–net!
Hei, hop! I’m the spoilt child of fortune indeed!
Good evening, Herr Pastor! the path is bad—
THE LEAN ONE
Ah yes; but what wouldn’t one do for a soul?
PEER
Aha! then there’s some one bound heavenwards?
THE LEAN ONE
No;
I hope he is taking a different road.
PEER
May I walk with Herr Pastor a bit of the way?
THE LEAN ONE
With pleasure; I’m partial to company.
PEER
I should like to consult you—
THE LEAN ONE
Heraus! Go ahead!
PEER
You see here before you a good sort of man.
The laws of the state I have strictly observed,
have made no acquaintance with fetters or bolts;—
but it happens at times that one misses one’s footing
and stumbles—
THE LEAN ONE
Ah yes; that occurs to the best of us.
PEER
Now these trifles you see—
THE LEAN ONE
Only trifles?
PEER
Yes;
from sinning en gros I have ever refrained.
THE LEAN ONE
Oh then, my dear fellow, pray leave me in
peace;—
I’m not the person you seem to think me.—
You look at my fingers? What see you in them?
PEER
A nail–system somewhat extremely developed.
THE LEAN ONE
And now? You are casting a glance at my feet?
PEER [pointing]
That’s a natural hoof?
THE LEAN ONE
So I flatter myself.
PEER [raises his hat]
I’d have taken my oath you were simply a
parson;
and I find I’ve the honour—. Well, best is
best;—
when the hall door stands wide,—shun the kitchen way;
when the king’s to be met with,—avoid the lackey.
THE LEAN ONE
Your hand! You appear to be free from
prejudice.
Say on then, my — friend; in what way can I serve you?
Now you mustn’t ask me for wealth or power;
I couldn’t supply them although I should hang for it.
You can’t think how slack the whole business is;—
transactions have dwindled most pitiably.
Nothing doing in souls; only now and again
a stray one—
PEER
The race has improved so remarkably?
THE LEAN ONE
No, just the reverse; it’s sunk shamefully
low;—
the majority end in a casting–ladle.
PEER
Ah yes—I have heard that ladle
mentioned;
in fact, ’twas the cause of my coming to you.
THE LEAN ONE
Speak out!
PEER
If it were not too much to ask,
I should like—
THE LEAN ONE
A harbour of refuge? eh?
PEER
You’ve guessed my petition before I have
asked.
You tell me the business is going awry;
so I daresay you will not be over–particular.
THE LEAN ONE
But, my dear—
PEER
My demands are in no way excessive.
I shouldn’t insist on a salary;
but treatment as friendly as things will permit.
THE LEAN ONE
A fire in your room?
PEER
Not too much fire;—and chiefly
the power of departing in safety and peace,—
the right, as the phrase goes, of freely withdrawing
should an opening offer for happier days.
THE LEAN ONE
My dear friend, I vow I’m sincerely
distressed;
but you cannot imagine how many petitions
of similar purport good people send in
when they’re quitting the scene of their earthly
activity.
PEER
But now that I think of my past career,
I feel I’ve an absolute claim to admission—
THE LEAN ONE
’Twas but trifles, you said—
PEER
In a certain sense;—
but, now I remember, I’ve trafficked in slaves—
THE LEAN ONE
There are men that have trafficked in wills and
souls,
but who bungled it so that they failed to get in.
PEER
I’ve shipped Bramah–figures in plenty to China.
THE LEAN ONE
Mere fustian again! Why, we laugh at such
things.
There are people that ship off far gruesomer figures
in sermons, in art, and in literature—
yet have to stay out in the cold—
PEER
Ah, but then,
do you know—I once went and set up as prophet!
THE LEAN ONE
In foreign parts? Humbug! Why, most
people’s sehen
ins Blaue ends in the casting–ladle.
If you’ve no more than that to rely upon,
with the best of goodwill, I can’t possibly house you.
PEER
But hear this: In a shipwreck—I clung to a
boat’s keel,—
and it’s written: A drowning man grasps at a
straw,—
furthermore it is written: You’re nearest
yourself,—
so I half–way divested a cook of his life.
THE LEAN ONE
It were all one to me if a kitchen–maid
you had half–way divested of something else.
What sort of stuff is this half–way jargon,
saving your presence? Who, think you, would care
to throw away dearly–bought fuel in times
like these on such spiritless rubbish as this?
There now, don’t be enraged; ’twas your sins that
scoffed at;
and excuse my speaking my mind so bluntly.—
Come, my dearest friend, banish this stuff from your head,
and get used to the thought of the casting–ladle.
What would you gain if I lodged you and boarded you?
Consider; I know you’re a sensible man.
Well, you’d keep your memory; that’s so far
true;—
but the retrospect o’er recollection’s domain
would be, both for heart and for intellect,
what the Swedes call “Mighty poor sport” indeed.
You have nothing either to howl or to smile about,
no cause for rejoicing nor yet for despair,
nothing to make you feel hot or cold;
only a sort of a something to fret over.
PEER
It is written: It’s never so easy to
know
where the shoe is tight that one isn’t wearing.
THE LEAN ONE
Very true; I have—praise be to
so–and–so!—
no occasion for more than a single odd shoe.
But it’s lucky we happened to speak of shoes;
it reminds me that I must be hurrying on;—
I’m after a roast that I hope will prove fat;
so I really mustn’t stand gossiping here.—
PEER
And may one inquire, then, what sort of
sin–diet
the man has been fattened on?
THE LEAN ONE
I understand
he has been himself both by night and by day,
and that, after all, is the principal point.
PEER
Himself? Then do such folks belong to your parish?
THE LEAN ONE
That depends; the door, at least, stands ajar for
them.
Remember, in two ways a man can be
himself—there’s a right and wrong side to the
jacket.
You know they have lately discovered in Paris
a way to take portraits by help of the sun.
One can either produce a straightforward picture,
or else what is known as a negative one.
In the latter the lights and the shades are reversed,
and they’re apt to seem ugly to commonplace eyes;
but for all that the likeness is latent in them,
and all you require is to bring it out.
If, then, a soul shall have pictured itself
in the course of its life by the negative method,
the plate is not therefore entirely cashiered,—
but without more ado they consign it to me.
I take it in hand, then, for further treatment,
and by suitable methods effect its development.
I steam it, I dip it, I burn it, I scour it,
with sulphur and other ingredients like that,
till the image appears which the plate was designed for,—
that, namely, which people call positive.
But if one, like you, has smudged himself out,
neither sulphur nor potash avails in the least.
PEER
I see; one must come to you black as a raven
to turn out a white ptarmigan? Pray what’s the name
inscribed ’neath the negative counterfeit
that you’re now to transfer to the positive side?
THE LEAN ONE
The name’s Peter Gynt.
PEER
Peter Gynt! Indeed?
Is Herr Gynt himself?
THE LEAN ONE
Yes, he vows he is.
PEER
Well, he’s one to be trusted, that same Herr Peter.
THE LEAN ONE
You know him, perhaps?
PEER
Oh yes, after a fashion;—
one knows all sorts of people.
THE LEAN ONE
I’m pressed for time;
where saw you him last?
PEER
It was down at the Cape.
THE LEAN ONE
Di Buona Speranza?
PEER
Just so; but he sails
very shortly again, if I’m not mistaken.
THE LEAN ONE
I must hurry off then without delay.
I only hope I may catch him in time!
That Cape of Good Hope—I could never abide it;—
it’s ruined by missionaries from Stavanger.
[He rushes off southwards.]
PEER
The stupid hound! There he takes to his heels
with his tongue lolling out. He’ll be finely sold.
It delights me to humbug an ass like that.
He to give himself airs, and to lord it forsooth!
He’s a mighty lot, truly, to swagger about!
He’ll scarcely grow fat at his present trade;—
he’ll soon drop from his perch with his whole
apparatus.—
Hm, I’m not over–safe in the saddle either;
[A shooting star is seen; he nods after it.]
I’m expelled, one may say, from
self–owning nobility.
Bear all hail from Peer Gynt, Brother Starry–Flash!
To flash forth, to go out, and be naught at a gulp—
[Pulls himself together as though in terror, and goes deeper in among the mists; stillness for awhile; then he cries:]
Is there no one, no one in all the
turmoil,—
in the void no one, no one in heaven—!
[He comes forward again further down, throws his hat upon the ground, and tears at his hair. By degrees a stillness comes over him.]
So unspeakably poor, then, a soul can go
back to nothingness, into the grey of the mist.
Thou beautiful earth, be not angry with me
that I trampled thy grasses to no avail.
Thou beautiful sun, thou hast squandered away
thy glory of light in an empty hut.
There was no one within it to hearten and warm;—
the owner, they tell me, was never at home.
Beautiful sun and beautiful earth,
you were foolish to bear and give light to my mother.
The spirit is niggard and nature lavish;
and dearly one pays for one’s birth with one’s
life.—
I will clamber up high, to the dizziest peak;
I will look once more on the rising sun,
gaze till I’m tired o’er the promised land;
then try to get snowdrifts piled up over me.
They can write above them: “Here No One lies
buried;”
and afterwards,—then—! Let things go as they can.
CHURCH–GOERS [singing on the forest path]
Oh, morning thrice blessed,
when the tongues of God’s kingdom
struck the earth like to flaming steel!
from the earth to His dwelling
now the heirs’ song ascendeth
in the tongue of the kingdom of God.
PEER [crouches as in terror]
Never look there! there all’s desert and
waste.—
I fear I was dead long before I died.
[Tries to slink in among the bushes, but comes upon the cross–roads.]
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Good morning, Peer Gynt! Where’s the list of your sins?
PEER
Do you think that I haven’t been whistling
and shouting
as hard as I could?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
And met no one at all?
PEER
Not a soul but a tramping photographer.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Well, the respite is over.
PEER
Ay, everything’s over.
The owl smells the daylight. just list to the hooting!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
It’s the matin–bell ringing—
PEER [pointing]
What’s that shining yonder?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Only light from a hut.
PEER
And that wailing sound—?
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
But a woman singing.
PEER
Ay, there—there I’ll find
the list of my sins—
THE BUTTON–MOULDER [seizing him]
Set your house in order!
[They have come out of the underwood, and are standing near the hut. Day is dawning.]
PEER
Set my house in order? It’s there!
Away!
Get you gone! Though your ladle were huge as a coffin,
it were too small, I tell you, for me and my sins!
THE BUTTON–MOULDER
Well, to the third cross–road, Peer; but then—!
[Turns aside and goes.]
PEER [approaches the hut]
Forward and back, and it’s just as far.
Out and in, and it’s just as strait.
[Stops.]
No!—like a wild, an unending lament,
is the thought: to come back, to go in, to go home.
[Takes a few steps on, but stops again.]
Roundabout, said the Boyg!
[Hears singing in the hut.]
Ah, no; this time at least
right through, though the path may be never so strait!
[He runs towards the hut; at the same moment SOLVEIG appears in the doorway, dressed for church, with psalm–book wrapped in a kerchief, and a staff in her hand. She stands there erect and mild.]
PEER [flings himself down on the threshold]
Hast thou doom for a sinner, then speak it forth!
SOLVEIG
He is here! He is here! Oh, to God be the praise!
[Stretches out her arms as though groping for him.]
PEER
Cry out all my sins and my trespasses!
SOLVEIG
In nought hast thou sinned, oh my own only boy.
[Gropes for him again, and finds him.]
THE BUTTON–MOULDER [behind the house]
The sin–list, Peer Gynt?
PEER
Cry aloud my crime!
SOLVEIG [sits down beside him]
Thou hast made all my life as a beautiful
song.
Blessed be thou that at last thou hast come!
Blessed, thrice blessed our Whitsun–morn meeting!
PEER
Then I am lost!
SOLVEIG
There is one that rules all things.
PEER [laughs]
Lost! Unless thou canst answer riddles.
SOLVEIG
Tell me them.
PEER
Tell them! Come on! To be sure!
Canst thou tell where Peer Gynt has been since we parted?
SOLVEIG
Been?
PEER
With his destiny’s seal on his brow;
been, as in God’s thought he first sprang forth!
Canst thou tell me? If not, I must get me home,—
go down to the mist–shrouded regions.
SOLVEIG [smiling]
Oh, that riddle is easy.
PEER
Then tell what thou knowest!
Where was I, as myself, as the whole man, the true man?
where was I, with God’s sigil upon my brow?
SOLVEIG
In my faith, in my hope, and in my love.
PEER [starts back]
What sayest thou—? Peace! These are
juggling words.
Thou art mother thyself to the man that’s there.
SOLVEIG
Ay, that I am; but who is his father?
Surely he that forgives at the mother’s prayer.
PEER [a light shines in his face; he cries:]
My mother; my wife; oh, thou innocent
woman!—
in thy love—oh, there hide me, hide me!
[Clings to her and hides his face in her lap. A long silence. The sun rises.]
SOLVEIG [sings softly]
Sleep thou, dearest boy of mine!
I will cradle thee, I will watch thee—
The boy has been sitting on his mother’s lap.
They two have been playing all the life–day long.
The boy has been resting at his mother’s breast
all the life–day long. God’s blessing on my joy!
The boy has been lying close in to my heart
all the life–day long. He is weary now.
Sleep thou, dearest boy of mine!
I will cradle thee, I will watch thee.
THE BUTTON–MOULDER’S VOICE [behind the house]
We’ll meet at the last cross–road
again, Peer;
and then we’ll see whether—; I say no more.
SOLVEIG [sings louder in the full daylight]
I will cradle thee, I will watch thee;
Sleep and dream thou, dear my boy!
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